The Sixth Winter
by Lael Mae
Summary: Madara finally breaks out of a seal and returns to Natsume, only to find him belonging to the clan that had separated them in the first place.


There was nothing he could do. Natsume wasn't knowledgeable in jutsu or shiki-gami or seals. All he could do was stand by and reach out, calling for Madara.

The process was too quick. Madara couldn't pull himself from the binding energy. Despite his clawing, roars, and violent struggles, the beast was only able to cast his intense gaze at Matoba, bitter and dark and vengeful.

Before he was sealed away, before the last speck of light was ripped from him, the final sight he was able to hang onto was — thankfully and regrettably — Natsume's fallen and defeated face.

For six years he remained in this seal (a short while for him, he mused, but it was much more for humans). Fortunately, he was released by a clumsy human curious about the antiques in a shrine. When he stretched his limbs and body and flexed his jaw from the containment, a quick look to the surrounding area was rendered unfamiliar.

What shrine is this? What region is this? Throughout his life, he made only a few long journeys out of spontaneous leisure. Madara had never been in this area.

The wolf-like beast looked down to the human that released him, but his only concern was the shattered pot. Madara blew out a large breath through his nose before fleeing the shrine in haste.

It had been six years. Six years since Matoba sealed him. Six years since he last drank. Six years since he last saw Natsume. Where could he be now? Does he still have the Book of Friends?

He was promised it.

Madara ground his teeth in the cold, mid-air flight. It was a thought that made him think of what it was like six years ago. A reckless boy giving back names of ayakashi left and right, kind-hearted and believing in the goodness of those around him. Hopefully this had remained the same. (Six years is short, but can change so much for humans. It was a stretched hope, he knew, that Natsume would remain as Madara last recalled.)

Madara thought he would have no issue with tracking Natsume, but it was hard remembering his scent. Those six 'short' years were now regarded mockingly. He made his way to the boy's home in Hitoyoshi of Kumamoto. He'd be incredibly lucky if Natsume was already there. But he wasn't, and his room looked strangely bare and uninhabited.

He stood on the snow-covered roof, peeking and sniffing at the window of the bedroom. Not here. Climbing down, he ventured another window to peek through, but no one seemed to be home either. Again, the house's insides seemed dull and vacant, missing a secret element that brought the family that lived here together.

With no help from this venture, Madara retraced paths and places Natsume frequented. They were either empty or populated by strangers. Natori no longer remained in the studio in the city; his scent and his shiki were long gone. Even Natsume's school friends were absent, although their presences had been recent.

Upon traveling through the Eight Fields, after investigating Tanuma's residence, a sharp surge coursed through his fur. Madara directed his attention past the mountain to the Eastern Forest, where he knew an abandoned manor was. But that manor, as Madara recalled, had been repossessed by an exorcist clan, the clan that had sealed him away not too long ago.

A white wave of energy shot through again (much different than the monk's weak blue). Madara bursted out of the forest and soared east, a metallic scent and taste from the surge leading him.

The sun was beginning to set by the time he arrived. The area around the manor was warm, occupied by many human presences despite winter's coat. Madara scanned the nearby grounds from a distance, watching a few humans carrying bags (that no doubt contained exorcist materials) travel was the farthest he could go without setting off the barriers and traps that surrounded the manor.

And why would he go any further? Natsume wasn't here.

"Sensei!"

Madara picked up his head when hearing the familiar calling.

Natsume had burst through a set of sliding doors to the patio, a bandage torn from his head, jumping into a half of meter of snow with socks on. His thick blue kimono and black haori clutched to the sticky snow as he stumbled through, his footing and movements too unsteady to be blamed on the snow. Most concerning of all, his eyes remained shut, struggling to open to slits.

But he had opened his eyes (a hurt grimace and pupils a different color, a strange paleness) and tore down the barriers lining on and in between the trees. The power emitted from the area made Madara feel sick when he jumped forward into the manor's grounds. With the wide space he was able to expand his body from crouching. But now, because of the removed barrier, Madara could finally smell Natsume.

Natsume reached out, hesitant but wanting, to touch Madara's muzzle.

Then he understood why. _He smelled different. _With a snarl, Madara asked, "Why do you reek of exorcists?"

"You don't have any need for this youkai."

Natsume's hand quickly pulled back, as if Madara snapped his teeth at him (he never could). His face had fallen like it had that time, having to unwillingly resign, defeated and obedient.

Madara twisted his body to where Natsume looked and where the voice had originated. Clothed in his iconic black haori and dark gray robe was the head of the Matoba clan. He remained on the porch next to Natsume's fallen bandage, his hands folded into large sleeves, and a cool grin smoothed on his face.

Hearing a crunch of snow, Madara turned back to Natsume. His hands were fisted at his sides and gaze lowered.

A growl rumbled through Madara's throat, furious and confused. He wanted his anger directed at the damn exorcist, but Natsume was here too, with him, with the man who sealed him, smelling of _exorcists_.

"Why are you here, Natsume? Are you with the exorcists now?"

Natsume wouldn't raise his head nor speak, so Matoba spoke (for him) once more.

"How convenient it must be for you to find him here. We don't typically use this base. It's too close to home." Madara heard the small hitch in Natsume's breathing. The blond crossed his arms, making it seem he was cold. (He was in his socks, his robes soaked and freezing from the snow, and he was with this _exorcist_ of all people.)

"Is this beast also in your Book of Friends?" It was likely meant as a jab. Matoba must know of all its contents; whose names are inside, who and what to extort and use and dispose.

Madara glared down on Natsume. He shook his head, not letting up on his constricting struggle. The beast youkai didn't know what transpired in his absence, but it was enough to have affected Natsume and shaken him to whose authority to follow.

But he couldn't restrain the bubbling fury inside of him. Natsume was working for the exorcists. They know about the book. They have _possession_ of the book. It was promised to him, no one and nothing else. Madara wasn't sure who would receive his deadly glare, so he stepped back and let his voice rumble throughout the mountain's forest. "Where is the Book of Friends?"

Neither human spoke. Madara casted his attention from amused exorcist to the mute male. Natsume had risen his head just a fraction, his timid face peeking out just slightly, so carefully. Madara ignored how the blond's shoulders had hunched and his fingers gripped into his sleeves, nearly reaching the bullseye insignia.

"You will give it to me!" he roared, again undirected at whom.

Natsume flinched from the outburst as Matoba chastised the youkai from the safe distance of his manor. "It is still in possession of its owner, beast. You are not allowed to have it." Madara locked his frenzied eyes with Matoba's. The man waited and dragged out their hostile moment. He knew of their promise, their contract of words and trust and guardianship, (it clearly showed on his calm demeanor)—

"Unless he's deceased, right?"

—Even the final solution to retrieve the book.

The reminder of the promise was met with silence. Madara maintained his heavy stare, tail sweeping the top of powdered snow and hair bristling. A rising need to taste the bastard's blood or feel the satisfying crunch of broken bone seduced his motives further.

"I'll relinquish it," came a soft voice.

The beast youkai looked to Natsume. His head was raised, searching Madara's eyes for restraint before continuing. "I'll give it to you, Madara." His pale amber eyes were large (scared, desperate, hopeful), dilating in a new adjustment of focus and sight.

Madara stepped forward, caught by Natsume's words and appearance. Why would Natsume offer the book to him? Couldn't Natsume leave now that Madara was here?

"Please, Sensei…" Natsume was only able to barely brush his cheek before being interrupted by the exorcist no longer patiently waiting.

"I won't allow it." He was noticeably closer to the porch's edge and hands primed to reach for whatever objects he held on his person. Madara kept a watchful eye on the exorcist. His feet edged closer and talismans were withdrawn. "The book now belongs to the Matoba clan."

Natsume's hand fell from Madara's fur. Strengthened from Madara's presence, Natsume openly acknowledged Matoba and disagreed. "I don't break promises, even with youkai."

"You are betraying the clan if you continue—" Matoba tried to argue, but he was choked by anger and panic. If he said too much, reflexively cast his talismans, he could lose Natsume and the book.

"Either I die and you lose the book and me, or you just lose the book." Madara's rumbling breathing subsided by the blond's declaration.

Does Natsume think he would kill him after all this time? Or was it a request?

It was then Madara noticed how, despite unfavorable events, Natsume remained the same.

This was a sacrifice he had always kept in mind. A promise and a power had been abused and now must be corrected.

"Madara is a powerful youkai. One of the strongest I have met. I do not own his name and therefore cannot control him. I have betrayed our agreement, as I was supposed to be returning names, not _using_ them, from the book. Since I have no longer been doing so, he may have the book. He is no longer my guardian; he is the youkai I promised this book to upon relinquishment or upon my death."

A sharp wind cut into Natsume and Madara. Night was closing in fast and the sun was nearly set. The final ray of purple light splayed across the snow and the orange and yellow lights from the manor casted enough light unto the two figures in the snow-trodden garden.

It was hard to discern Matoba's shadowed face, but Madara heard his sigh (heavy and reluctant) after a few long moments. "Fine." Another sharp gust blew through, whipping the discarded bandage onto the ground. Matoba tucked his hands into his sleeves and remained on the porch, eye and mind vigilant of his clan member and the problematic youkai.

Natsume struggled when reaching into his robes, pulling out the Book of Friends secured by a burgundy obi. His fingers were pink, Madara noted. Extreme weather conditions weren't kind to humans. Despite the cold and wind, Natsume didn't shudder or raise his shoulders. He looked into the youkai's yellow eyes and offered the green book.

But Madara didn't take it just yet. In those few moments he studied Natsume's eyes. They were pink and raw, like his fingers, watering and struggling to stay open despite the outside's calm. The cuts around the skin healed a few weeks ago and there was no cloudiness, just a loss of color. He wouldn't need that bandage anymore.

"What is wrong with your eyes?"

Natsume dismissed the question with a sad smile. He won't get an answer. At least at this moment he won't. "I'm sorry, Sensei… Don't come back here. I know you're angry, that you want to help, but you can't."

He'd be a fool to not see that Natsume hated being here. Something happened after he was sealed away and hidden. Natsume would never be here, with an exorcist (with such a ruthless person) willingly.

Upon Natsume's glistening eyes, Madara's hairs bristled. What reason did he have to cry? There was too much for Madara to consider (pain, loved ones, control, injustices), but Natsume didn't make a sound. He stood resolute with whatever he had in mind, and it unnerved Madara.

"I can take you away from here."

Stepping forward, the book in hand, Natsume embraced Madara's muzzle. The youkai felt his face bury into the thick fur, nuzzling and fisting as much as he could. "I know… I know…" came his muffled, wet voice. Madara breathed, let his throat rumble as a means of comfort. Natsume gripped tighter, pulling out a few strands from the coat, finishing with a stifled sob, "But you can't… I can't."

In six years, how far had their relationship extended?

Madara nudged his head against the blond. He didn't seek out Natsume to find him like this. "I'll help you. I'll come get you tomorrow." His voice was stern (like it had always been), but hopeful; it was strange to hear uncertainty from Madara.

Natsume pulled away and coughed on a wet laugh, "Thank you, Sensei…" before handing the Book of Friends over to Madara. A smile, wet and struggling, but he looked relieved.

"I will return," Madara affirmed once more, vibrating Natsume's trembling figure with his resounding voice.

"I will be waiting."

Natsume pulled back, his fingers being the last to leave, tingling the tips of Madara's prickled fur.

* * *

Madara returned the next day as he promised. The seals were readjusted and placed just as before, but the beast didn't mind the counter that surged his body. This was for Natsume. He was waiting for him — he'll be able to take him _home_.

Even with the newly learned scent of Natsume, Madara knew it very well. He made sure to concentrate and remember (despite how wrong and strange it was). With a whiff upon crossing the back garden, there was no scent. There was of course the stench of exorcists, practicing static spells and brushing words with stone-ground ink.

It was fleeting, the delicate scent of Natsume. There was a trace left, seeping from inside the manor. Madara crawled closer to the back porch (where Natsume burst from yesterday). A stronger smell there, but vacant. He was moved some while ago. As much as he wanted to tear open the sliding doors, the seals were too risky to open.

Voices shouted from a distance. Turning his head, Madara caught sight of exorcists approaching, seals and spells and shiki at hand.

He demanded Natsume. He was to be returned, discharged from the alleged membership.

The exorcists quieted instantly and a hush of whispers waved among them. One stepped forward, an older subordinate Madara had remembered from many years past (glasses and a prickly beard and hair). The youkai huffed and pulled away from the porch, his teeth barred just slightly, giving an unfriendly warning.

But before it could be fully expressed, the older man cut in, his voice loud, but flat. "Master Natsume is no longer here."

Laughable. It was no doubt because of Matoba. Madara growled, "Well? Where is he then?"

"I cannot disclose those details." The old man shifted, casting a quick glance to his comrades before returning to the youkai. "I do not know where he is now located. Master Matoba did not notify us of the relocation."

A few exorcists moved closer, but a snort from the beast youkai halted their steps. Nothing else could be settled here. Madara kept his glare on the group of exorcists, weighing his thoughts and choices.

Blowing a breath from his nose, Madara finally resolved to jump away from the manor and back into the safety of the Eastern Forest. He dashed and maneuvered through before ascending above the tree-line, hoping that a familiar scent or presence would beckon him.

Bare.

Only the cold inhale of winter and an abandoned forest.

He didn't know where to start — what direction or what clues or what thoughts to follow.

But it was best to think rationally. He couldn't waste his energy uselessly.

Madara dipped back into the deadened forest, scourged the floor for any remaining weaklings or prideful ayakashi that roamed their once forest.

But it was useless. The ayakashi were weak, weaker than Madara had predicted. They didn't notice any leaving presence or heavy travelers.

Useless. Useless.

A crack of a branch alerted Madara to an encroaching exorcist. A spell was aimed his way, but the youkai moved out in time with only a slice to his shoulder. There were more in the background, a circle already formed and incantations about to start.

Madara swiped what he could of the shrubbery and rocks and dirt at the assailants. He felt a slight pull on his tail from the seal, but he was able to break away, back towards the places he knew (the Eight Fields, the udon shop, the Fujiwara house).

The final time Madara saw Natsume was when he left him at the Matoba manor, leaving behind the hollow smile and a vain promise of salvation.


End file.
